


Next Time

by cowboykylux



Series: Kinktober 2020 [10]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1800s, Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, Bathing/Washing, F/M, Leather Kink, Masturbation, Outlaw Kylo Ren, Outlaw Reader, Rivers, Scent Kink, Scents & Smells, Voyeurism, alternate universe - wild west
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: Sparkling blue waters, crystalline and deep. Kylo stares into them, into the ancient bend in the canyon there, and lookin’ back at him his reflection blinks. The water’s so still that it looks like it’s supposed to be made of glass, smooth and delicate. That ain’t no river, Kylo thinks to himself when he wades in, can’t be. No, surely it must be some kinda mirage out in the Arizona desert, a place like this couldn’t be real.When the water ripples around your naked body just some feet away, he’s pretty damn sure you couldn’t be real neither.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Series: Kinktober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949992
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Kinktober 2020 fic event
> 
> Prompt: Leather

Sparkling blue waters, crystalline and deep. Kylo stares into them, into the ancient bend in the canyon there, and lookin’ back at him his reflection blinks. The water’s so still that it looks like it’s supposed to be made of glass, smooth and delicate. That ain’t no river, Kylo thinks to himself when he wades in, can’t be. No, surely it must be some kinda mirage out in the Arizona desert, a place like this couldn’t be real.

When the water ripples around your naked body just some feet away, he’s pretty damn sure you couldn’t be real neither.

You’re bathin’ there in the river. It was your idea, had been your idea to wash the clothes and scrub your hair. Kylo sure as shit wasn’t about to go complainin’ for nothing – he couldn’t remember the last time he had the time for a decent scrub. He had a small brick of hard lye and castor oil soap in his hand, but even that had been tossed at him by you.

You, what a damn woman you are. He’d never seen nothin’ or nobody like you. The way you look at him with disdain and trepidation makes his dick hard, and he tries desperately to think of something else, anything else, as he moves further into the river. He’s naked just as you are, and though he’s seen plenty of breasts in his day, he ain’t about to go gettin’ himself shot by bein’ too casual and lookin’ at yours.

Almost as if you can read his mind, your voice rings from the few feet away where you’re standin’. You’re a little father upstream and Kylo finds that he don’t mind the dirty water eventually comin’ down to him. Something about it feel precious, that water, knowing it has cleansed you and in turn will cleanse him too. 

“Are you lookin’?” You ask, although – and now Kylo could be wrong about this like he is so often wrong about things like this – you don’t sound defensive, or angry. Just curious.

“No.” Kylo says. He almost wants to say ma’am, but he bites his tongue. He knows you don’t like to be called that, and he doesn’t want to offend or upset.

“Do you want to?” You speak so softly that Kylo almost misses it, probably would’ve done so if the breeze hadn’t carried your voice to his ears.

He turns to face you, and there you are.

Standing in the waist-deep water with your tits out, nipples hardening from the chill of the river, hair tousled ever so gently by the breeze. You’ve got the sun on your freshly soap-scrubbed skin, and Heaven help him, but Kylo thinks you really must be some kinda angel, glowin’ at him like that.

You don’t move, and neither does Kylo. As he takes you in, he lets you do the same, lets you see the scarred muscles he keeps hidden under his shirt. He knows he’s got a lot of ‘em, but he ain’t too embarrassed or shy – they’re battle wounds most of ‘em, and the others, well. They were part of him one way or another, and he wasn’t about to go hidin’.

You show him all of you, standing there in the river. He’s not got the want to do anything other than the same.

Hesitantly, he takes a step towards you. He’s askin’ for permission in this silent way, a hand outstretched. You’re dispistoled, so you can’t go takin’ his other eye out, and that makes him hopeful, makes him bold. Surely you’d have an inklin’ of trust for him if you’d go out into the water without your gun.

Maybe more than an inkling, Kylo hopes beyond hope, when you bite at the inside of your cheek so hard you’re sure to be bleedin’, and begin wadin’ through the water to him. Eagerly, he moves to join you, the two of you meetin’ in the middle and suddenly, Kylo’s restin’ his forehead against yours. His shoulders are hunched over just a bit from it, but he don’t mind, not when he gets to see you this _close._

He ain’t so sure he’s ever really seen a woman’s face this close before.

You don’t say anything, you’re not really one to say much, Kylo has started to learn. He wonders what secrets you’ve got locked behind those angel eyes, wonders if you’ll tell him one day. It’s gonna take a real long time to get to Colorado, maybe you’ll tell him.

He’d tell you his, he’d tell you everything.

But you ain’t sayin’ nothin’ now, and Kylo doesn’t know what to do, so he says the first stupid thing that comes to mind.

“I like the way your leather smells…when you’ve been ridin’ all day.” He doesn’t break his gaze from yours, lookin’ from your left eye to your right with the only one he’s got left.

“What’s it smell like?” Your ribcage expands when you take a deep breath, a steady breath. It’s a challenge in some way, but he don’t know what.

Kylo breathes in too, breathes in time. He can still smell it on you, the leather. There’s so much of it that you wear – your boots, your gloves, your chaps around your legs. Even your holster is made of it, and all of it, every damn piece, swirls and curls up into his nostrils whenever you’re close to him like this. Well, you ain’t never been _this_ close to him, but that ain’t the point.

“Like sweat, the earth.” He replies, his dick twitchin’ about it, about thinkin’ of the way it must feel so supple and hot against your skin. He’s jealous for a moment, jealous of your holster. He wants to be tucked against your thigh, on your hip. “It smells warm, like it’s still alive. It smells like you.”

“And what do I smell like?” You stare at him seriously, it’s a challenge, it’s a test. He never did so well at those in school for the five years he went, but this was much more important that letters ever were.

“I – I don’t know.” He admits, heart pounding in his ears.

“Do you want to find out?” You whisper, eyes wide with fear of somethin’, maybe rejection. Kylo doesn’t know. You don’t give very much away.

A falcon soars overhead, it’s call cryin’ out and echoing through the canyons, and he whispers, “Please.”

Your hand smooths up his chest, feeling each and every ridge of the scars that he’s covered in. You blink hard and fast, chin pinching in. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to ruin this, to break this spell. You’re so generous, and he doesn’t want you to think him ungrateful. That hand’o yours moves up up up, around his shoulder, his neck, fingers weavin’ into the hair at the base of his skull.

When you push his head closer towards you, push it down a little so that he can rest his forehead on the crook of your neck, he goes so quickly, carefully. He takes in a deep breath and _oh,_ damn do you smell good. Even with the soap, even with all of the scrubbin’, there’s still an undeniable scent of you, of the leather.

It’s tanned and salted, he can smell it, can feel it in the back of his throat. In his mind’s eye, he can picture the way it hugs your body when you’re ridin’, can visualize how those chaps of yours fit nice and snug where they’re supposed to, how your holsters wrap around your body in ways he can only dream of.

He gets so turned on by it, by these big gulps of air against your skin that he’s takin’, that Kylo doesn’t realize at first that his dick’s pushin’ against your stomach. He doesn’t realize until your hand is closin’ around it, and his eyes fly open, worried that he’s upset you.

“Your cock’s hard for it?” You lick your lips, voice that same kinda curious as it was before.

“Yes.” He says immediately, hatin’ how raw and rough his throat feels. He’s thirsty, so thirsty, just by bein’ near you. All the blood from his brain’s gone down to his dick, he can feel it pulsin’ thick and hot in your hand under the cool water.

“For me or the leather?” You whisper, but you don’t give him time to answer, instead makin’ him groan in the back of his throat when you say, “You can take care of it, if you’d like. If’n you need to.”

Releasing his dick, Kylo groans at the loss. His hand replaces yours, but damn it felt so much better when it was you. His face is still tucked into the crook of your neck, and he’s still breathin’ you in, breathin’ in the smell of that leather, of your body as he begins a slow stroke over his cock. 

He grunts a little, speedin’ up when he feels like he needs it, twisting over the head of his dick and swipin’ through the slit with his thumb. Kylo’s breath comes in a little faster, puffs of hot air against your throat where he can nearly feel your pulse thrummin’.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice wobbly with how he’s workin’ at his dick, jerkin’ himself off. You’re right there, your lips are _right there,_ and he’d bet every dollar that he ever stole, that your lips were sweeter than the sweetest wine.

“No.” You shake your head, and he sucks in a sharp breath, the rejection stinging – but not stinging enough to make him discouraged. It’s a playful no, if still a no. As Kylo’s hand speeds up still, back and forth back and forth, Kylo counts his graces that you haven’t shot him yet. You seem to think something over, and eventually the hand in Kylo’s hair redirects his face to a better angle and you say, “But you can taste me. Come on cowboy, taste me.”

Immediately Kylo’s tongue is pressin’ against your pulse. He moans outright, his hips bucking up into his fist, shoulders curlin’ in on themselves so they can press him closer to you. Your breasts hang beautifully and brush against him, as your other arm curls around his waist.

He opens his good eye and looks down, watches how his cock is curved up in the small space between your bodies. His knuckles graze the flesh of your stomach with each stroke, and he grunts and groans and moans and drools against your neck as he laps up the taste of your salty sweat, stealin’ peeks at how if you’d let him, he’d come all over your chest.

You taste like the leather, like the earth. You taste like heaven and the moon and the stars and everything in between, and it makes Kylo’s mouth water. He wants to kiss you, but he will not refuse this gift he’s been given, and so he kisses your throat, your shoulder. He laps you up, fucks his fist there under a powder blue sky.

“Angel, oh – ughn, that’s good.” He moans, voice gravelly and deep, the back of his throat clickin’ with want.

“I’ve got you.” The hand in his hair cards soothingly, sweetly, and Kylo whines, tears springin’ up in his eyes. He blinks them away, tries not to let you see with how he shoves his face further against your neck, his nose inhalin’ you, his tongue tastin’ you.

“Mmm, ah, _ah,_ ” He shudders as he spills over his hand, his fingers blockin’ it so it don’t go arcin’ up onto you or nothin’.

You just got clean after all, he don’t want to go dirtyin’ you up again. He comes onto his fist, eyes shuttin’ tight tight tight as he lets out a long breath. He can taste you on his tongue, your sweat. He knows that soon you’ll dunk yourself back down under the water and the trace of his touch will be gone, but Kylo thinks there ain’t enough baths in the world that could scrub off the way you make him feel.

“Fuck.” He sighs, wincin’ at how indelicate that sounds, but you only chuckle.

“Hm?” You don’t step away from him yet, you don’t go nowhere. You stay close, right there, close enough that he can smell that leather, smell the soap, smell _you_.

“Probably shouldn’t’ve done that in the water we’re supposed to drink.” Kylo grumbles, not knowing what else to say. He can’t say what he really wants to, not now, not so soon. You’d kill him for it, probably, so he says this instead.

You give him a strange look, like something between amusement and suspicion.

“I’ve already filled the canteens, but the current will take it.” You say matter-o-factly, before finally untanglin’ your arms from his body and walkin’ back to where you’ve left your brick of soap on a rock juttin’ out of the river. You’re so matter of fact, that Kylo’s taken off-guard by the way you toss over your shoulder, “Next time aim somewhere else.”

He turns his gaze to the sky, not a cloud in sight, and prays to his lucky stars that are out there somewhere, that he lives to see a next time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate POV for a scene in an upcoming chapter of my wild west AU, Biting Dust. However it can be read on it's own, and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
